


WHAT ARE THESE FEELINGS: a fifth year Hogwarts story

by hermette, sunsetmog



Series: Hogwarts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Hogwarts AU, M/M, Not!Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermette/pseuds/hermette, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not!fic. </p><p>In which Brendon still has the heart of a lion even though the Gryffindor tower is way too hot, Spencer has feet, Brendon likes things to be organized in his head, and Spencer keeps his wand under his pillow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WHAT ARE THESE FEELINGS: a fifth year Hogwarts story

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://sunsetmog.livejournal.com/567207.html) in August 2011.
> 
> 4,000 words, not!fic, obviously unbetaed, kissing.

Can... okay, like, in their fifth year, can they get into a bitchy fight about their OWLS, because Spencer is like >:( TAKE THIS MORE SERIOUSLY BDEN and Brendon is like >:( YOU'RE TAKING IT SERIOUSLY ENOUGH FOR BOTH OF US and they wind up shouting at one another and getting kicked out of the library and then Brendon sneaks into Gryffindor in the middle of the night (he knows the password because of course Spencer told it to him) and Spencer is like, wtf are you doing, it's the middle of the night, and Brendon is like, I couldn't sleep, how are you asleep, aren't you bothered that we fought >:( FINE I'LL JUST GO and Spencer is like, it's after curfew, you're going to get into trouble, just get in, and Bden is like I WILL SLEEP ON THE FLOOR and Spencer is like FINE and one of his roommates is like FOR GOD'S SAKE SHUT UP. So Bden like, lies down on the floor but it's made of stone so it's like, COLD and HARD and after a few minutes he gives up and clambers up into Spencer's bed and Spencer rolls his eyes but he just lifts up the covers so that Brendon can climb in, and Brendon is still angry, but Spencer's bed is so warm and soft and Spencer-y and Brendon sort of nods off, and then he feels Spencer's hand come up and rest on his belly, just above the hem of his shirt, and it rests there heavily and Brendon gets a weird feeling in his stomach, like he wants to wriggle around until his shirt rides up a little, so that he can feel Spencer's hand on his stomach and he sort of lies there half the night, trying to be so super still, when inside his brain is all whirling around, WHAT ARE THESE FEELINGS?

And previously they've been kind of bickering because Brendon is looking for a girlfriend, and he's made a list of Gryffindor girls and he doesn't really like any of them but that's not the point, the point is, he has the heart of a LION. Spencer's been really weird about it, and this has been the first year they've really bickered, and Brendon _hates_ it when they fight. 

So when he's lying in bed with Spencer, and he kind of wants to move closer so that he can touch Spencer back, his brain is just _whirling_.

YES YES. AND MAYBE, maybe Brendon can't sleep in socks, okay, because his toes get all trapped and confined and his feet NEED TO BREATHE OKAY and it never occurred to him to wonder, but turns out Spencer doesn't sleep in socks either and sometime in the night, Spencer sort of snuffles and slides his legs closer and his feet brush up again Brendon's, it's not like Brendon has never touched Spencer, because he has, but usually it's like, the back of his neck, or his arm through his cloak, or ruffling his sweaty hair after a game, but _this_ , Spencer's feet are pressed up against his, Spencer's NAKED FEET and it occurs to Brendon like it never has before that underneath his shirt and his trousers and his robes, Spencer has ACRES AND ACRES of skin, and is it all as soft as the skin on the tops of his feet and WHY IS IT SO HOT IN THIS TOWER, is what Brendon wants to know.

He - for the first time ever - is thankful that he's a Ravenclaw, because if he'd had to spend five years sleeping in a tower that's _this hot_ , he would have died of a sweat related crisis, and nobody wants that. Plus, he would never have had Eric, the stuffed raven in a Gryffindor scarf that Spencer had given him before they'd started their fourth year. He really likes that raven, even though he hates ravens in general, and they are not as cool as lions. He has an affinity with lions. He is a lion at heart. Seriously, how much skin does Spencer have, anyway? His calf is brushing up against Brendon's, and his pyjamas have ridden up so that it's bare skin against Brendon's, and Brendon can't stop thinking about every place they're touching, about the space between them and the way that Spencer _snuffles_ in his sleep and how his skin is pink and warm and Brendon keeps wondering what it would be like to touch his face.

There's something like hysteria bubbling up in Brendon's throat, and he has to press his forearm across his mouth to stifle it, because... because it's Spencer's _face_ , what is he even... 

The tower must be pretty high up, because the moonlight slicing in through the windows is pretty bright, and Spencer hasn't drawn the curtains around his bed so the light is falling across the planes of Spencer's face, and Brendon turns his head on the pillow to look at him. He doesn't know what he expected to see, because even this close, Spencer is still just Spencer. It's still the same face Brendon has been seeing across hallways and lunch tables and classrooms for five years, except now he's got a little bit of stubble on his neck and cheeks and above his lip, and Brendon's fingers twitch against the sheets.

This must be magic, he decides. It has to be. Magic. Maybe he's just overwhelmed by finally getting to spend a night in his rightful dormitory. If he'd been in Gryffindor, he would have had to share a room with Spencer all of these years, which would have been _awesome_ , he tells himself. They could have hung out in the middle of the night and had midnight feasts. Maybe what Spencer looked like when he was sleeping would be normal by now, and Brendon's stomach wouldn't be turning over and over like he was diving on his broomstick, and he wouldn't be all sweaty because he was unused to the tropical heat in the Gryffindor tower. And if all those things were true, he wouldn't want to reach out and touch Spencer's cheek, and see what he looks like as he wakes up.

Brendon thinks about the red and gold of the Gryffindor banners in the great hall. He thinks about the sick swoop in his stomach and the _wait, no, what?_ , when the Sorting Hat had been plucked off his head, and he's such a fucking asshole, because he can't even work up the courage to put his fingertips on Spencer's cheek. 

Then Spencer's eyes flutter open, and Brendon stops thinking at all.

Spencer's pink-cheeked and when he speaks, his voice rough with sleep. "Why are you even awake?"

Brendon shrugs. "I don't know," he says. His fingers _itch_ with the need to lean in and touch Spencer's face, to be closer, to get rid of the space between them. He can't - he doesn't understand what he's feeling. "I just -"

"Can't sleep, huh?" Spencer says, and he rolls his eyes. "Is this because you're missing your stuffed raven?"

"No," Brendon lies, since it is not his fault he's got used to using Eric as an extra pillow. "You have, like, feet and stuff."

Spencer raises an eyebrow. "Feet... and stuff? You didn't know I had feet before?"

"No, I _did_ ," Brendon says, and he can feel himself going red. "But now they're here. With me."

"Uh-huh," Spencer says, and he nods, sleepily. Brendon bites his lip. He can't help himself, he really can't. He reaches out and touches Spencer's jaw with the crook of his finger, darting back as soon as he realises what he's just done. 

"Oh, crap," he says, in a shaky voice. Spencer's eyes are wide.

"Brendon," he says, voice low and a little shaky. Brendon's hands are trembling; he needs to get up, he needs to move, he needs to _go_. 

He doesn't move. 

"I-" 

Spencer stick a hand under his pillow and comes up with his wand. He mutters a spell and the curtains around his bed flip closed with a swish, plunging them into darkness. Brendon wants to make a joke about Spencer keeping his wand under his pillow, but he can't get a proper lungful of air. 

The bed shifts and dips with Spencer's weight, and even though it's dark, Brendon can make out the outline of Spencer propping himself up on one elbow, looming over Brendon in the narrow bed. He squeezes his eyes shut.

"Sorry," Brendon says, quickly, since he thinks that's probably the kind of thing you should say if you accidentally touch your best friend's face in the middle of the night. 

He hears Spencer swallow. "Can I - can I touch you?"

Brendon can't speak. He can't do anything. He doesn't even know what this is, but he's breathless and tense and it feels like all the air's been sucked out of the room. "Yes," he says. 

"Okay," Spencer says, after a moment, and then Spencer's leaning down and touching Brendon's jaw with his thumb. 

Brendon forgets how to breathe.

He tries to push down into the mattress, tries to be as still as possible so that he won't accidentally do anything to make Spencer stop touching him, because he has no idea what this is, but he does know that he doesn't want it to stop, not ever. Spencer is moving his thumb in little arches, down to Brendon's chin and then up to the hinge of his jaw. It feels... it feels _incredible_ , and Brendon wants to do something to make Spencer feel the same way, but he doesn't know what. He turns his head a little, nuzzling at Spencer's palm, lifting up a little so that his mouth brushes against the hot skin of Spencer's wrist. 

Spencer's breath does a weird hitch thing and Brendon's face burns. He think he just kissed Spencer's arm, and oh, god, he just hopes that five years of friendship will stop Spencer from punching him in the throat.

From punching him in the throat or magically hexing him or something, because Spencer might know where his wand is but Brendon doesn't know where his is. It's probably tangled up in the bedclothes or in his dressing gown or whatever, but the thing is, he's just kind of kissed Spencer's arm, and even if it was by accident, this is _serious_. 

"Oh," Spencer says, in a dazed, half-asleep kind of a voice. " _Oh_."

"Sorry," Brendon says, biting down on his lip. "Sorry -"

Spencer cups Brendon's cheek in his palm, thumb brushing Brendon's lip. Brendon can't breathe, and all he can do is just keep on lying there, not moving. "Do you want me to stop?" Spencer asks. 

Brendon shakes his head. "No," he says, a little desperately.

"Okay," Spencer whispers. "Okay, I - jeez, Brendon." 

Brendon doesn't know quite what he's expecting, but it's not Spencer trailing his fingertips over Brendon's cheek, down the length of his throat and then back up again to trace the bow of his mouth. He touches Brendon's eyebrows, his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his temples, where Brendon's pulse is pounding out of control. Spencer is _everywhere_ , touching Brendon like he's something that could break, and Brendon can almost taste the skin of Spencer's wrist in his mouth. 

By the time Spencer fits a thumb under Brendon's chin and tilts his mouth up, Brendon is trembling so badly he thinks he bones are going to shake apart.

Brendon can barely breathe. "Spence," he says, desperately. He has no idea what he's asking for, but he wants Spencer to keep on touching him forever. Forever. He's never felt anything like this before, not ever. 

"Can I—can I kiss you?" Spencer asks, in a low, rough voice Brendon's never heard before. His thumb is still stroking Brendon's chin.

Brendon swallows, nodding. "Yes," he says, before he's even had a chance to process what it is Spencer's asking him. 

"Oh, fuck," Spencer says, in a ragged voice, and then he's ducking in and pressing his mouth to Brendon's.

It's nothing at all really, just the soft press of mouths together, the ridge of Spencer's nose up against his. As far as kisses go, it's probably nothing spectacular, but this is Spencer, Spencer who saves a spot for Brendon at breakfast and bitchfaces anyone who has a problem with it, Spencer who can never figure out his Transfiguration homework without Brendon watching over his shoulder, Spencer who bought Brendon a stuffed raven wrapped in red and gold. 

This is Spencer, and that makes this everything.

"Is this -" Spencer says, "is this okay?"

Brendon nods again. "Yes," he says. "More than okay."

"Can I -" Spencer trails off. "Can I do it again?"

"Please," Brendon says, because Spencer is his best friend and he's _everything_ , and Brendon wants so much more than one dry, all-too-brief kiss. He leans up on his elbows, and tilts his chin up. "I want to - can I—"

Spencer leans in, and presses his mouth to Brendon's. "Yes," he says, softly, "please."

Brendon has approximately no idea what he's doing, and it should be terrifying. It _is_ terrifying, but then Spencer opens his mouth over Brendon's and suddenly, just like that, it's the easiest thing in the world. He lifts a hand and cups the back of Spencer's neck with it, sliding his fingers into the soft hair there. Sleep has made Spencer's skin hot and a little damp, and Brendon wants to touch everything all at once. 

His heart is beating so fast it's making him dizzy. 

"Spence," he says, when Spencer pulls back again. "Spencer." He grins; it's too big, too bright, too obvious, even in the darkness behind Spencer's curtains. Spencer can probably read him like and book and Brendon - Brendon doesn't even fucking care. He surges up off the bed and catches Spencer's mouth again.

Kissing Spencer is kind of wondrous, and magical, and it feels a lot like the first time he got to play quidditch for the Ravenclaw team - although not as good as he would have felt if he'd got to play in Gryffindor red and gold. He recognises the swoop in his stomach, the twist of adrenaline in his belly, the way his palms are sweating as he kisses him, his hands on Spencer's biceps. 

"I -" Brendon says, pulling away. He wants to laugh. "What are we _doing_?" 

Spencer shrugs, and strokes his finger down Brendon's cheek again. "Not sleeping," he says. "Kissing?"

"No, but," Brendon says. He likes to know how things work. He likes organisation. "I mean - what _is_ this?"

Spencer stills. "I don't know," he says. "Will you hate me if I told you I'd been thinking about this for a while?"

"Kissing me?" Brendon asks, suddenly short of breath. He's never thought about kissing Spencer, not really. He doesn't like the idea of Spencer thinking about something Brendon wasn't.

"Yeah," Spencer says. "Yeah, Brendon, kissing you. Is that okay?" 

"I-" Brendon doesn't really know what to say. "Why didn't you say something?" 

Spencer pulls his hand away from Brendon's cheek and sits back on his heels. Brendon can almost hear the _whoosh_ of cold air that slips in between their bodies. 

"When? You kept pulling out that list of girls, I didn't-" 

"But." Brendon shakes his head against Spencer's pillow. "I didn't-I _don't_ like any of them, not like... I didn't know this..." he trails off and waves a hand vaguely between them. 

Spencer makes a soft noise and catches Brendon's hand in his. His palms are sweating. "I've always been an option, Bren, you just weren't smart enough to realize it. Are you sure you're a Ravenclaw?" 

"Hah!" Brendon says, too loud. "You see? You see-" 

"Brendon," Spencer says, cutting him off. There's laughter in his voice, and just like that, they're back to being Brendonn and Spencer again. Brendon's heart hurts.

All those girls... Brendon remembers his list, the way he had rated them for their sense of adventure and how lionlike their hearts were. The way he'd never actually imagined kissing any of them, and had instead imagined holding their hands and dancing in front of everyone at the next Yule Ball, and somehow getting to do the whole thing in Gryffindor robes. He hadn't ever imagined feeling like this. He hadn't even known he _could_ feel like this. 

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Spencer asks, shuffling back so that he's kneeling up. He stretches, rolling his shoulders. It's really dark but Brendon can still see him. 

"Not really," Brendon says. "Maybe I'm drinking in the spirit of the lion," he says. "I'm building up to roaring." He keeps thinking, _we were kissing, we were kissing, we were kissing_. He wants to do that again. Why hadn't he ever considered that before now?

Spencer laughs softly, like he's indulging Brendon and lies down again. Brendon is too aware of all the places they're touching. He kind of wants to shuffle away and he kind of wants to climb on top of Spencer and just _hope_. In the end he just stays still and lets Spencer settle the blankets around them, heart jack hammering up near his ears. 

Spencer kissed him. Spencer kissed him and touched his face and held his hand and said- he said he'd been thinking about it, about the kissing, for a while, and a while was longer than just a night, right? Longer than Brendon just being an available mouth. Spencer _said_ \- 

"Stop thinking so loudly," Spencer says. "'m tired." 

"No," Brendon says. He doesn't want to stop thinking. He's got a lot of thinking to catch up on. 

Spencer sighs, and fumbles his hand across the blankets. He catches Brendon's and slots their fingers together, palms going flush. "Yeah, okay." 

"Okay," Brendon says. He closes his eyes. Spencer is right there, he's _right there_ \- 

Spencer mouth presses against Brendon's cheek. "Sleep," he says.

"I _can't_ ," Brendon says, because that's the truth. He has, like, years of thinking to catch up on. His skin feels hot and flushed, and he can feel where Spencer kissed him, like a burn. Like a _good_ burn, if there are any kind of burns that are good, or whatever. Maybe that tickly fire that the witches in the olden days used when they were being burnt at the stake, but then that wouldn't feel like a _burn_ -

"Brendon," Spencer says. "Stop it."

"It's just," Brendon says. "You kissed me."

"Yeah," Spencer says, after a beat. "Do you need me to say sorry?"

"I need you to do it again," Brendon says.

Spencer's fingers tighten around Brendon's. It happens so quickly that Brendon wonders if Spencer even knows he's doing it. The air around them feels heavy, thick with anticipation, and Brendon wonders if he's supposed to say something else. 

He turns onto his side and finds Spencer watching him, and it's the simpliest thing Brendon has ever done, to cup Spencer's cheek and pull him in for another kiss. Spencer rolls in towards him, and it's diferrent like this, on their sides, Brendon arching his neck up so that they fit together. It's different and exhilarating and terrifying, and Brendon feels like he could catch about a thousand Snitches right now. He doesn't even need a broom.

He can't figure out why he didn't realise he wanted this before. Why hasn't he spent the last five years imagining this every night? He strokes his thumb over Spencer's cheek, kissing him again. He feels like he could do this forever. For _ever_. 

...It is not his fault he falls asleep.

When he wakes up, sunlight is filtering in through the curtains and the sheets are cold. Brendon levers himself up onto his elbows, glancing around the room. He feels a dazed and disoriented and a bit like throwing up. 

He's halfway out of the bed, grappling around on Spencer's bedside table for his glasses, when the door opens and Spencer slips inside. 

They both freeze. 

"Um," Brendon says. 

"You're awake." 

"Barely." Brendon finds his glasses and shoves him on, forcing himself to stop looking at Spencer's mouth. He wonders if he's imagining the way it looks a little redder than usual. "You were gone, I didn't-" 

"Breakfast," Spencer says. He holds up a napkin. "It's just butter and toast, but I figured you might be hungry." He shrugs awkwardly. "I don't know. I didn't mean to be gone." 

"Okay," Brendon says. He can't stop grinning. He feels like his face is going to break. 

"Okay?" 

"Okay." Brendon pats the bed beside him. "You can always come back, you know." 

Spencer sighs, put upon, and says, "You're not getting crumbs in my bed," but he comes over anyway and sits down beside Brendon. He hands over the napkin. "You fell asleep." 

Brendon's already got an entire piece of toast stuffed in his mouth.

"I didn't mean to," is what Brendon means to say, but mostly he just spits crumbs onto Spencer's blankets, which makes Spencer frown. "I was tired," he says, going pink. 

"Okay, so I don't know if we're talking about this now it's not the middle of the night," Spencer says, flushing, "but just so you know, falling asleep in the middle of kissing someone is kind of, well. It's a bit crap."

Brendon goes even more pink, if that's possible. "I didn't mean to," he says again, swallowing his toast and trying not to choke. "I liked the kissing."

"Yeah," Spencer says. "I could tell. From the way you fell asleep."

"I was very tired," Brendon says, sadly. "It was an accident."

"I don't think it says very much for my kissing," Spencer mumbles, playing with his toast. He's all pink, Brendon notices, and he looks embarrassed.

"Spencer Smith," Brendon says. "Spencer. _Spencer_." 

"What?" Spencer says. 

Brendon looks down at his second piece of toast sadly. He's still hungry and he wants to eat it, but not as much as he wants to make sure Spencer never, ever looks at him like that again. He puts it aside and turns to face Spencer. 

"Your kissing," he says, "is the best kissing. The absolute best, okay, Spencer Smith? And, I mean, I know it's not like I have much to compare it to, or anything to compare it to, really, but seriously, that was the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me, the best, best thing, and I want to kiss you forever, okay?" 

Spencer blinks at him, and before knows it, Brendon is plucking Spencer's toast out of his hands and swinging a leg over Spencer's hips so that he's in Spencer's lap. He knows he's blushing and that there's fuck all he can do about it, and he doesn't fucking care. 

"And frankly," he blurts out, "you knew I was a bit rubbish _before_ you kissed me and I don't really think it's fair for you to start holding that against me now." 

Spencer cocks his head to one side. His hands are on Brendon's hips, and Brendon never wants to be anywhere else, not in his entire life. 

"Say something." 

Spencer blinks again. "You are a bit rubbish." 

"But you'll keep me anyway?" Brendon says. It sounds like a joke, but they both know it's not. 

Spencer sighs and shifts back on the bed, bringing Brendon with him. His hands slide down to Brendon's ass (my ass, Brendon thinks, holy shit, and that's a mental door he'll never be able to close) and he settles back against the headboard. 

"I suppose I should," he says. "I do have years of experience dealing with you, and it wouldn't be fair to inflict you on someone unprepared." 

"Right," Brendon says, and he's grinning. He brushes his nose against Spencer's. He thinks it might be time for more kissing. "So do I say something sexy now? Like, let me make it up to you?" 

Spencer laughs. "Our breakfast'll get cold." 

"It's already cold." 

"Well," Spencer says, "when you put it that way." 

They get detention for missing potions. 

It's entirely worth it.


End file.
